by Patricia R.D.

Arvin's hands are rough and strong, the hands of a


hard-working man. Yet their touch is gentle now. Jack closes his eyes and tries to pretend he's anywhere but in this man's arms, naked and sweating. That Arvin's touch isn't the closest thing to human contact he's had in the past few years. Then he tries to relax and let Arvin think the enjoyment is mutual. But part of Jack thinks of Laura, of happier times.

Finally Jack can bring some life into his tired flesh, and Arvin is happy, because he thinks he's making his best friend happy.


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